


a golden boy came down my way

by ohmyvalar



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fade to Black, M/M, Post-Canon, mentions of past Peter B. Parker/Mary Jane Watson, so i guess this doesn't have to be rated m?? but pls lemme know!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyvalar/pseuds/ohmyvalar
Summary: Post-movie, Miles' Peter Parker ends up in Peter B. Parker's universe via a glitch in the mulitverse.-Peter is curled up against the side of the couch, that blond head propped up on one elbow. The faint, pinkish tint of his alcohol-flustered cheeks paints a pretty picture in contrast to his darkened blue eyes.Benjamin wonders if he himself ever looked  anywhere that beautiful. He's no narcissist, but he's not given to meaningless humility either; he knows he had a prime. Once when he walked down the street, arm in arm with MJ, they both got appreciative glances, instead of speculative side-eyeing. It was the fall from grace that hurt - not the impact itself.





	a golden boy came down my way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/gifts).



> hi!! was reading through letters when i stumbled upon your prompt for this pairing, for which there's only 1 fic currently on ao3?? of course that had to be remedied!! I hope you enjoy this little treat~

It’s been two weeks since the trans-dimensional rift opened up by Kingpin’s particle accelerator was sealed. Two weeks since the Spider-people bid their farewells and returned to their respective multiverses. 

Two weeks since Peter B. Parker has tried and failed to win his Mary Jane back. 

“Peter, there'll always be a part of me that loves you. Once that was all of me. But now… It's too late. I can't be that girl for you anymore. I'm sorry.”

_But you're still all of my heart,_ Peter wanted to cry. _You're the reason I found the will to come back here, instead of staying there with the kid._

Instead, he mustered up his best smile, gave her his sincere well wishes, and turned back down her doorsteps alone. 

Now here he is, a loner once more, trudging down the city streets. He's slouching in a well-worn leather jacket and old washed-out jeans. Probably still as much of a down-and-out sucker in the eyes of the world as he was before. 

But somehow, he doesn't feel quite as down as he was before. At his lowest he was cooped up in his hole-in-the-wall apartment, because half of him was afraid of what he might do out in the streets at night. 

Travelling to that other universe has changed him. Meeting the other Spider-people has quelled his loneliness. Mentoring - or at least, guiding - Miles has taught him how to rediscover himself. 

Even without MJ, he's finally ready to move on with his life, as best as he can. 

So when Peter stares up at the sky now, he sees a future, not just his mired past. 

Well, figuratively. Literally, he's squinting against the glaring sun as it hangs high in the midday sky. 

And that’s when a figure jumps across his view, the light shining out like a heralding halo in its background. 

It lands before him on the pavement in a practiced crouch. Peter quietly admires the sleek reflexes and elegant poise. Once, in his prime, he would've been able to execute the move with similar ease - but sadly he is still rather out of shape now. 

Then the figure stands up and pulls the hood of his jacket back, revealing a shock of blond hair and an intimately familiar face. 

“Hi,” says the Peter Parker from Miles’ universe. “I'm glad I finally found you.”

-

“So, some kinda dimensional glitch, you say?” Peter B. Parker asks across the table. 

They’re exchanging details about their mutual circumstances over food, which is reminiscent of how he first met Miles. 

But this is the kid's perfect, blue-eyed national hero, and he's not as broke as he was when stuck in another universe without his wallet; so they're sitting in a respectable restaurant with a private table to themselves. He isn't feeling up to explaining their resemblance to any curious regulars.

Peter - Miles’ Peter, the dead one who is supposed to be lying under a flower-adorned grave in his own universe - nods. 

“When Kingpin dealt me that last blow… I died. But I wasn't really gone. Not yet. Maybe it was something to do with the particle accelerator, maybe something else it triggered - but my consciousness remained. I could see everything, everywhere, but I couldn't interact with reality.”

Peter B.’s mind reels as that information sinks in. “Then you were watching us. Throughout our entire struggle against Kingpin, to shut the collider down. I mean - watching over us.” It stings, the idea of this all-perfect Spider-Man seeing all his declining imperfections.

“Yes. Well, not the entire time.” The blond Peter replies. “Even after I realized I couldn't reach her, I stayed around MJ. I thought maybe without seeing me she would be able to sense me somehow… And draw some comfort from my presence - even if I was, well, a ghost at that point. And that's where I was when I jumped universes. By her side. I think it was probably when you destroyed the collider.”

The mention of the grieving Mary Jane back in Miles’ home universe sobers them both into silence. 

“And you don't know how to undo this? To… Transport yourself back home?”

Peter shakes his head solemnly around an artfully twined forkful of spaghetti. “As far as I know, I'm stuck here for the foreseeable future. I'd ask Aunt May, but I know that in your world…”

The older Spiderman’s mood involuntarily darkens as his thoughts turn to his late aunt. “Yeah, I don't suppose you'll get any leads from that end.”

He stares down at his plate of half-heartedly half-finished lasagna, and something - sympathy for someone lost in an alternate universe? Comradely spirit, from one Spider-Man to another? Common decency? Still that mundanely human need for companionship? 

Whatever it is, something makes him offer: “You got a place to stay here?”

-

Of course the lost Spider-Man doesn't, and so he has to sleep in the bed he made and make good on his offer. He foots the bill - because he's not a complete asshole, and the kid’s good turn on him deserves a pay-it-forward - and leads the way back to the apartment. 

Then they're squeezed in on the subway, knee to knee in the lunchtime rush crowd. Peter B’s is bouncing arrhythmically in a a nervous, restless defiance against the steady humming of locomotive progress. It's his heightened spider-senses, maybe - he supposes his could even lie to himself that they're to blame without anyone around to prove him wrong. 

Except there's Miles’ Spider-Man, calm and dignified like the perfect hero he is, sitting comfortably beside him. Now that they're out in the open, he acknowledges his earlier paranoia. They are identical in face, but their different builds and age make them seem like a pair of very recognizable siblings at most. 

_Right. And there's no reason to self-deprecate because you sold your car for the apartment’s down-payment after moving out of MJ’s either… Even though this guy here probably owns scores of cool cars in his secret superhero garage._

Awkwardly, he clears his throat.

“Uh, so - You got some other name I can call you? ‘Cause logically I know you're me, but semantically…” 

He watches as Miles’ Peter cycles through what must be a substantial list of nicknames in his mind, smiling and frowning in turn. He's almost forgotten what it feels like to have a ready supply; affectionate ones from friends and family, and creepy variations of his superhero alias from villains. 

Eventually, the blond Spider-Man settles on a nostalgia-tinted smile, and redirects the question at him. “I'm not sure which ones I have that you don't too. What about you? I heard you introducing yourself to the new kid - Miles. You have a middle name, don't you?” 

“Benjamin,” he replies on reflex. Aunt May called him that. And MJ, sometimes, when she was taking on an authoritative tone with him. 

Something about that last part must have shown in his face, because Peter’s expression turns understanding. “If that's too familiar for you - we could use something else -” 

“No - no. It's alright.” He forces the words out of himself. “Benjamin is just fine.” 

-

Benjamin’s apartment is less of a mess than it was before his sobering dimension-jumping experience, but that doesn't really count for very much. 

He doubts his choices all the way up to flipping the light switch on - but Peter seems unfazed by the sight before him. 

Staring sheepishly after his guest, Benjamin takes in his apartment through new eyes. The messy coffee table. The haphazardly stacked newspapers he used for chasing leads. The unmade bedsheets thrown off in his sleep. All right. At least he disposed of the takeout last night. He supposes it isn't a far cry worse than other bachelor pads in the city; but neither is it any better. And he’s sure that golden boy Peter lives in a paradise in comparison - or at least a domestic paradise.

He follows as Peter makes his way through the living room. To his credit the blond Spider-Man doesn't comment on his decrepit state of living; he pauses only at his bedside for a moment more. 

Benjamin's eyes trail over to find the photograph of MJ propped up beside his bed. Auburn hair curling around her shoulders, aquamarine eyes sparkling as she looked out from the picture at the man behind the camera. Younger, less world-wearied. They both were.

“Ah,” he says dumbly. 

Peter turns to him, his unfairly blue eyes shining with strained emotion. And all of a sudden it all comes pouring out of them, everything about the woman they both loved and lost. 

And is there anything else they could've ended up talking about just then? 

Of course not. They're Spider-Men. Mary Jane was the other half of their souls. 

They're halfway through cup-noodles dinner - turns out even national hero Peter can't be perfect at everything - and the words are spilling out of them. 

“I… I dunno. I'll always love her, y’know.” Even as he speaks the words he realizes the truth in them for the first time, as if some veil to his subconscious is being lifted by literally talking to himself. “But I - I respect her peace. I owe her that much at least. I mean, I didn't cherish her enough when she was around… And now I'm just getting what I deserve.”

He expects enthusiastic, even aggravated agreement from Peter, who has after all lost his Mary Jane from no fault of his own - perhaps forever now. 

But, Peter only shakes his head. “You can't keep blaming yourself like that, Benjamin. MJ knows us. She knew exactly what she was getting into when we became serious. And marriage’s a two-way street. I'm - younger than you are, so maybe I can't know as much as you do about it, but - we both chose this life. That it didn't work out shouldn't all be on you.” His impossibly blue eyes shine with genuine compassion and understanding. 

“And if you're wondering about me… You don't have to try to spare my feelings. MJ and I came to a consensus a long time ago - just before our marriage. If anything were to happen to either of us… If giving up all hope was the best available, sanest choice for us - we promised each other to move on. It was a painful decision, but one we both stood by. And it's what I stand by now.”

From anyone else it would be cheap platitude; even condescending. But this is Peter Parker. He's Spider-Man, _him,_ too. For a horrible second Benjamin thinks he feels his eyes tearing up - he has to force himself to look away, blinking rapidly as he replies, “Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Really. Thank you for saying that.”

Putting away dinner turns into breaking out drinks, sitting on the couch slides down into relaxing at its bottom, and Benjamin shortens into Ben. 

Peter is curled up against the side of the couch, that blond head propped up on one elbow. The faint, pinkish tint of his alcohol-flustered cheeks paints a pretty picture in contrast to his darkened blue eyes. 

Benjamin wonders if he himself ever looked anywhere that beautiful. He's no narcissist, but he's not given to meaningless humility either; he knows he had a prime. Once when he walked down the street, arm in arm with MJ, they both got appreciative glances, instead of speculative side-eyeing. It was the fall from grace that hurt - not the impact itself. 

But he's never strictly been the pretty type. Even in the bygone days of his youth, he was always more the broad-shouldered jock than the leanly muscled flower boy. 

Peter looks like the latter. Benjamin has never had his deceptively slender build, his long gentle fingers, not his golden laughter. And of course, there's those blue eyes and fair hair, impossible to ignore and unthinkably beautiful. 

One of them reaches out for the other first; he doesn't know who. Does it even matter? They're the same person after all. 

The first touch is a warm palm on his cheek, and then a long kiss that leaves a lingering aftertaste on his tongue. It… It’s sweet. _Peter’s_ sweet. Too sweet for a messy, drunken hook-up he can take solace in knowing he’ll regret come morning. Benjamin has to stop this now before it turns into something else, something uncontrollable and undefinable and all-around disastrous for him - both of him. 

He doesn’t.

They stumble off to bed, Benjamin's limbs hopelessly entangled with Peter’s until the younger man takes pity on him and readjusts his grip, laughing. 

It's only when they're already inside his bedroom that, standing inside the doorway with his back against the door, the full gravity of what they are about to do hits him. He’s about to screw his doppelganger from another universe - no, _himself,_ but younger, fitter, and the only person who can claim to truly know everything about him without even trying. 

And, really - somehow that last part’s all it really takes. 

Outside the mellow light of Benjamin's apartment is shining in through the gap of the door. Inside Peter is the only thing he can see. 

Smiling that knowing, sunshine grin of his, Peter takes his hand in a reassuringly weighted grip and leads him to his own bed. 

Well. The only bed. “If this was your plan to get me in your bed all along - well, you’ve got me.” The blond Spider-Man jokes teasingly as he lies with his back on the mattress, long fingers beckoning with a “come hither” motion. 

The bed sinks under Benjamin’s weight as he follows Peter. Another wave of doubt hits him; he’s been working on rebuilding himself, both mentally and physically, since he returned from Miles’ universe - but that belly isn’t going away at the snap of a finger. What would Peter, with his young, still-perfect body think of his older, out-of-shape self? 

But before any further thoughts can cloud his judgement, Peter's hand is cupping past his cheek and threading through his hair. 

And then both of them are falling towards each other, compelled by some uncomputable gravitational force Benjamin might’ve called fate if he didn't know it for the absolute, reassuring sensation of yielding himself to someone he completely trusts.

They move together with a symmetry, a coordination that surpasses the ease of old lovers and cheap skill. With each other there is no need for superhero smiles or flaking facades - they merely need to be themselves. 

When he comes, he surprises himself by the shock of his euphoria in that one pure, blank, moment - and the absence of anyone else in his thoughts. 

In the morning Benjamin wakes up to an empty bed and a ringing kettle. 

Still in a sleep-heavy daze, half his heart in his throat, he stumbles to the kitchen. 

There, framed by the doorway of the kitchen, stands Peter with his back facing away. He’s not wearing a cute apron, or anything sweetly domestic like MJ might have done when she was in the mood. 

But he's familiar, a constant in Benjamin's life of continuous change. A constant he knows will remain, no matter where their respective adventures lead them next. Solidarity. Between Spider-Man, he supposes - and more than even that. Reconciliation, with himself, for himself. 

And maybe even, if he's feeling really really optimistic - peace, at long last. 

Benjamin steps into the kitchen, hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks. From ahead, as if by practiced telepathy, Peter turns. On his face is that golden smile once more, the one that makes him feel like he's come home. 

And just for that one, frozen, golden moment - the universe finally feels right again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
